A Memory of Light (Wheel of Time, #14; A Memory of Light, #3)

by Robert Jordan

Lan Mandragoran held aloft the head of one of the Forsaken—their battle commander, supposedly invincible. The Shadow’s army could not ignore what had happened, none of them, wherever they were on the battlefield. The voice that had come out of nowhere had proclaimed it. That the attacker should stand while the Chosen lay dead… it stunned them. Frightened them. And then the Horn sounded in the distance. “Press forward!” Mat yelled. “Press forward!” His army threw themselves ferociously on to the Trollocs and Sharans. “Cauthon, what was that sound?” Arganda demanded, stumbling up beside Pips. The man still had one arm in a sling and carried a bloodied mace in the other hand. Around Mat, the Deathwatch Guard fought and grunted, cutting down Trollocs. Mat yelled, throwing himself into the fight. “That was the bloody Horn of Valere! We can still win this night!” The Horn. How had the bloody Horn been sounded? Well, it looked like Mat wasn’t tied to the thing any longer. His death at Rhuidean must have broken him from it.